


Red Wine and Chocolate

by exclamation



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Arguments, Chess, First Kiss, First Times, Kidnapping, M/M, awkwardly timed rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exclamation/pseuds/exclamation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of X-Men: Apocalypse, Erik kidnaps Charles, hoping that they can work as partners on Erik's latest scheme to provide a future for mutants. Charles doesn't approve of Erik's plan, but he hopes that by sticking around, he can help keep some of Erik's worst impulses under control. </p><p>After a lot of shouting, a bit of talking, and some chess, the two admit why they're not willing to give up on each other. But are feelings of love enough to keep them together after all they've done to each other? </p><p>And it won't help that the X-Men are furious over the kidnapping. Hank especially is not so quick to forgive as Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the world of Cherik fanfiction. My knowledge of X-Men comes about 90% from the films, 9.9% from the animated series that was on TV when I was a kid, and only about 0.1% from the comics, so I should note that this story will be based on the movieverse, particularly the three prequel films - First Class, Days of Future Past, and Apocalypse. 
> 
> In terms of timelines, the story is set shortly after X-Men: Apocalypse and I'm assuming that the events of DOFP mean I can mess around with the timelines/events of the other X-Men movies to my heart's content.

Silence rang in Charles’ head. The unfamiliarity of it brought a surge of panic that woke him in an instant. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself up to a sitting position, or at least attempted to. Metal bars stretched across his chest and stomach, pinning him to the bed he lay in. 

He fought to control the fear that rushed through him as he took stock of his position. He couldn’t sense any minds nearby and when he tried to probe out with his thoughts it was as though they hit a wall. Some barrier was trapping his mind in with him. So he looked around with his physical sight, taking in as much as he could from his prone position. He was lying on a large bed which would have been comfortable if it weren’t for the bars. More metal reached up from the foot of his bed to grip his ankles so there could be no doubt who had put him in this position. 

Anger and hurt rushed to replace the initial panic. How could Erik have done this to him? He’d thought things were better between them now. For all their arguments and history, they’d parted on good terms after the mess with Apocalypse. He’d dared to hope that they might be friends again, like they had been what felt like a lifetime ago. 

As furious as he was with Erik, he was equally angry with himself for believing things might go right between them. 

The rest of the room was smartly furnished, which seemed like a mockery given Charles’ trapped position. There was a couch, a table, a chest of drawers, storage cupboards. Everything except windows. The light came from lamps with colourful shades. The white-painted walls were decorated with paintings of woodland scenes and seascapes. Erik must have spent a long time trying to make this prison pleasant, and that somehow made things worse. 

There was a metallic clank and then the door swung open. Charles turned to glare as Erik walked in, pushing a metal-framed wheelchair. Erik was wearing his helmet, blocking out any chance Charles might have of getting into his mind and forcing him to let him go. Charles would have to try reasoning with him in the old-fashioned way, but he didn’t feel particularly reasonable right now. 

“An invitation was too much effort?” Charles snapped. 

“I’m sorry, Charles. I didn’t want to run the risk of you saying no, or those students of yours interfering.” 

A flash of fear pushed through Charles’ anger at the mention of his students. 

“Did you hurt them?” he asked. He hated that he had to ask. He wanted to trust Erik, wanted to believe in his goodness and have faith that Erik wouldn’t have hurt them, but he knew his students wouldn’t have just let Erik do this to him. 

“No,” Erik said, voice firm. From his face, it looked like he’d expected the question, but Charles wished he could see what was behind that expression. He wished he could understand why Erik would do this. What was Erik planning this time? 

There was a creak of metal and the bands holding Charles to the bed flew away, twisting themselves up and hiding themselves away beneath the bed. Erik wasn’t getting rid of them altogether, which was ominous, but at least Charles could sit up now and looking Erik straight in the face. 

Erik sent the wheelchair over to the bed with another wave of his hand. 

“You’re not coming closer?” Charles asked. 

“I’ll keep my distance. Wouldn’t want you getting rid of my defences.” Erik touched the side of the helmet he wore. 

Charles looked at the wheelchair. It was metal, so getting into it would let Erik have the ability to control his movements, but the alternative was staying on the bed. One way, Erik might stop him moving himself, the other way, Charles wouldn’t be able to move much anyway. The worst thing was that he didn’t know if the wheelchair was meant to be a kind gesture on Erik’s part, a way of granting him some freedom, or if it was a deliberate act of imprisonment. It might be the former, since there weren’t many wheelchairs which didn’t have metal in them somewhere. 

Charles made his decision. He pushed himself over to the edge of the bed, pulled the chair closer, and then hefted his weight up and across. The chair rolled a little as his weight hit it, but then he could take a grip of the wheels’ rims and twist around to face Erik. 

“Are there any all-powerful mutants bent on world destruction that I can blame this situation on?” Charles asked. He didn’t hide his anger. Erik avoided his eyes. Charles didn’t need to see into his mind to see his guilt. 

“I’m sorry, Charles,” he said again. “I just wanted us to talk in private.” 

“We could have talked at the school.” 

“I was worried that if you didn’t like what I have to say, you and your students might try to stop me.” 

“And you don’t think they’re going to object to you kidnapping me?” 

Erik reached into a pocket and pulled out a small glass jar with a metal lid. He held it for a moment before the jar floated across the space between them. Charles reached out and took the jar from the air. It was filled with a clear liquid. 

“What is this?” Charles asked. 

“A drug. It will put you to sleep, harmlessly and painlessly for several hours. If you don’t like what I have to say, you can drink that and I’ll take you somewhere safe, somewhere your X-Men can find you when you wake up.” 

“You went to all the trouble of kidnapping me only to send me away again?” 

“Only if you don’t like what you hear. I want you here, Charles, I want you as my partner, working with me, the way it used to be. I know I brought you here against your will, but I’m hoping you’ll choose to stay.” 

There was something pleading in Erik’s tone. It was hard to hate him when he sounded like that. He finally met Charles’ gaze and his eyes were full of something sad and desperate. There was a longing for the time before they’d started fighting each other, a time before the damn chair, before the deaths of so many friends. Charles could feel the reflection of that longing inside himself. He wished they could just forget the years that had passed between them and be happy again. 

So Charles let himself ask, “What is it you want to say?” 

“I’ve been in communication with a scientist, an expert on mutation. He’s made a study of what triggers mutations of different types: what makes cells go cancerous, what causes genetic disorders, and... what makes us.” 

“It sounds like he and Hank would make excellent pen pals, but I still don’t see anything the warrants a kidnapping.” 

“He’s a long way from testing his research on humans,” Erik said, “but he believes he’s identified a way to trigger mutation in humans.” 

“You want to turn humans into mutants,” Charles said. He didn’t know whether to be horrified or excited. The idea of controlling who was a mutant and who was human was, from a purely scientific viewpoint, a fascinating one, but he suspected Erik wasn’t in this for the science. 

“I’m not suggesting we go out and turn everyone into mutants,” Erik said, “though I’m not necessarily against that either. I think there are people who it could be... strategically valuable... if they became mutants.” 

“Strategically valuable?” 

“Every time a law or a proposition or some anti-mutant measure comes up, it’s the people in power who get to vote on it and those people in power are almost always human. Once or twice a mutant gets into power but only by hiding what they really are, but they’re a minority. The rest of the people deciding our fate are humans. If we could transform them, if we could make all those people making the laws into people like us, then suddenly it would be in their best interests to protect mutants.” 

“And you think the best way to get a government that protects mutants is by violating them at a genetic level?” Charles asked. 

“You were fine with altering your genetics to ape humans so you could walk.” 

“I made that choice. Right or wrong, I made that choice. What you’re talking about is changing people without their permission.” 

“They keep talking about imprisoning us, making registers of us, treating us like criminals. Are they going to ask our permission for that?” 

This argument had a familiar feel, like they’d been here a hundred times before. They both agreed that the anti-mutant measures that kept being discussed were wrong, but they could never seem to agree on what to do about it. 

“If you find the humans who think mutants are monsters and turn them into mutants, they’re just going to hate us all the more. They’re going to blame all mutants for turning them into something they hate.” 

“But they won’t be able to hate all mutants without hating themselves. If we can make this work, Charles, no one needs to get hurt. You can have the peaceful solution you keep talking about. There will be mutants inside the political system, in positions of power, able to make decisions to ensure future peace. Think about it, Charles. We can finally have a world where humans and mutants can live side by side.” 

“Or humans will see this as an attack and turn against us even more.” 

“For someone who claims to have faith in people, that was very cynical.” 

“I just think we should try reasoning with people before messing with their DNA. Of course, if that doesn’t work, you can always resort to kidnap.” Charles waved a hand vaguely around at the room. 

“Does this mean you’re not going to help me?” Erik asked. 

“I’m not going to help you play god with people’s genes,” Charles said. He tried not to think about the sadness on Erik’s face. He tried not to think about how he knew exactly what he’d feel if he could look inside his mind. 

“OK,” Erik said. “If that’s what you want, drink. I’ll send you back to your precious X-Men.” 

Charles looked down at the jar he held. Erik thought that there were two outcomes here. Charles could stay and help him meddle with the genetics of some of the most powerful people in the world, or Charles could go back to the X-Men and start tracking Erik down so they could stop him. That was what Erik expected when he’d set this up: partnership or enmity. One extreme or the other. Charles wasn’t going to help with this ridiculous scheme, but he wasn’t ready to go back to fighting either. He was sick of Erik being his enemy. 

Maybe there was a third path, an option down the middle. Charles had talked about reasoning with the politicians but maybe they weren’t the ones he needed to reason with. He could stay and try to talk Erik into a better choice. If he stayed by Erik’s side, he could temper his worst impulses. 

Charles slowly unscrewed the metal lid from the jar until what he held in his right hand was just the glass and its contents. Nothing metal. Nothing Erik could control. 

Charles hurled the glass at the wall. The liquid inside sprayed out across floor and wall. The glass scattered, shards raining down. Erik stared in shock at the damp stain on the paint. 

“What the hell?” 

“I’m not going to let you drug me,” Charles said. 

“That was so you could go home!” Erik said. He sounded angry but there wasn’t so much as a tremor from the metal objects in the room. He was in perfect control. 

“Well, I guess it’s up to you now. You can either let me out of here, knowing that I’ll figure out where we are, or you can keep me prisoner.” 

“Do you want to stay a prisoner or something?” 

“I want to keep you from doing something dangerous.” 

Erik glared at him. Charles expected objects to start flying at any moment, but there were no great shows of anger except that expression. 

“I was going to let you go home. I was trying to do the right thing. But if you want to stay kidnapped, fine! You can stay kidnapped!” 

The door opened and Erik stormed out. It slammed shut behind him and metal locks clanked into place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the yelling starts...

Erik must really have hoped that Charles would choose to stay, judging by the effort he’d put into preparing the cell. There were clothes in Charles’ size and styles he liked. There was a collection of books. There were packs of playing cards. And, inevitably, there was a chess set. Charles ignored these potential pastimes and continued his investigation of the room. The only way in or out was the main door, which was firmly locked. There was another door, but this led through into a bathroom. 

Charles stared at that room, a little impressed despite himself. The sink was low enough that he’d be able to easily use it from his chair. There were supports on either side of the toilet so he could lift himself onto it. There was even a plastic seat in the middle of the shower so he could sit under the spray. Erik had built this place or had it built with careful thought to making life easier for Charles. Even the light switches were lower on the walls to make it easier for him to reach. It would be far more convenient than his bathroom at the school. Charles hadn’t thought it was possible to feel touched and angry in the same moment. 

Erik could go to all this effort, but he couldn’t just come and talk to him. He couldn’t just ask for his help. Some part of Erik must still see Charles as an enemy. The drugs, the kidnapping, all of this was because he couldn’t trust Charles. He’d assumed there was a chance that Charles would fight him, would try to trap him in return, would get into his mind and control him. Erik had cared enough to do all this, but he didn’t trust him, and what good was any amount of care without trust? 

The outer door opened again. Charles wheeled back into the main room as Erik walked in. Two trays floated gently across to land on the table, while a dustpan and brush floated over to the shattered glass and began to clear up the mess. 

“I thought you might be hungry,” Erik said. Charles watched the brush, which was sweeping the glass shards into the pan with apparently little attention from Erik. He’d never had any doubt about the strength of Erik’s powers, but this showed an intense level of control. To be able to control the dustpan and brush, without losing control of the trays, and locking the cell door behind him, all while managing to walk into the room and start a conversation. 

“You’re pretty good at multi-tasking these days,” Charles said. He waved a hand in the direction of the dustpan. 

“I’ve kept in practice. Actually, rebuilding your school was a great exercise. Jean and I would probably still be building that place if I had to move every single girder and nail independently.” 

“Speaking of Jean, what do my students think has happened to me?” 

Erik grimaced. 

“Are they even aware I’m alive?” Charles asked. 

“I left a note for them to find. I reminded Hank and Mystique that I would never hurt you.” 

“I’m not sure they’ll be convinced of that seeing how the last time you kidnapped me you handed me over to a maniac who wanted to possess my body and take over the world.” 

“I didn’t know he was going to possess you.” 

Charles fixed him with a stare, “Really?” 

“I didn’t know. I knew about the missiles and that he wanted you to send a message but I didn’t know he planned to do that to you. Charles, I swear, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You knew he was killing people and you didn’t think that he might kill me too? No. You weren’t thinking at all. You were just following orders.” Charles let his anger fill those last few words. They had the effect he’d intended. Erik looked horrified and furious at the same time. Charles expected the room to start shaking but Erik just took an angry stamp of a step forward and jabbed a finger towards him. 

“Don’t you dare say that!” Erik snarled. 

“You were going to destroy the entire planet on his orders while he destroyed me from the inside. I think I have a right to be angry.” 

“I helped stop him. I chose to fight with you.” 

“Because of Raven! Because of Peter. Not because of me.” 

“Is that what you’re angry about? I helped save your life and you’re angry because Mystique was the one who talked me into it?” 

“I’ve got a lot of reasons to be angry with you, Erik. That one’s not even halfway up the list.” Charles wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth about that. His feelings about Erik had always been a mess. There was so much anger, so many disagreements, so many fights, all bundled up in their history until he couldn’t see any of it clearly. This kidnapping was another scrape against an already gaping wound. The incidents with Apocalypse were recent enough that they were close to the surface, easy to lash out about, but how could even he tell which feelings were the real cause of all this fury? 

“Like you haven’t done anything worth getting angry over,” Erik snapped. “You left me to rot in solitary confinement while you drugged and drunk yourself into oblivion.” 

“Fine. Next time you commit horrific acts of violence, I’ll come visit you in prison. We can play chess.” 

“You self-righteous ass. You’re so determined to paint me as some sort of evil villain because you’re scared to admit I might be right.” 

“I’m literally your prisoner right now.” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

“You kidnapped me!” 

“You smashed your chance to go free!” 

The dustpan wobbled on the floor, making the glass shards chink against each other. It might have been a deliberate reminder, but Charles doubted it because the trays on the table were bouncing a little, jolting their contents. Erik’s control was slipping as his anger took over. 

“You could let me go right now if you weren’t afraid of me turning around and bringing the X-Men here and stopping you. Some of them were your friends too. I think that’s a clear sign you know you’re doing something wrong when you go to all this trouble to keep them from finding your lair.” 

“Or maybe I just know that you’re a sanctimonious bastard who can’t keep from meddling.” 

“If you didn’t want me meddling, you should have just left me out of this. You can’t blame me for that.” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to go to these lengths if you weren’t so judgemental,” Erik said. 

“I wouldn’t have to judge you if you didn’t go round killing people all the time.” 

“No. You prefer shutting yourself away in your huge mansion with your fingers in your ears, hoping the world becomes a nicer place but not actually doing a damn thing to make it that way!” 

“Because sending a locket through the necks of police officers is going to make the world a nicer place!” 

“Rolling over and letting humans oppress us certainly won’t!” 

“I don’t know why I even bother talking to you!” Charles said. “You never listen to a word I say!” 

“That’s a hell of a statement coming from you!” 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve never listened to anyone else in your life! You’ve always had to be in charge, always had to do things your way. Even when we were supposed to be partners, I was the one who had to bend to suit your principles. It was your way or nothing!” 

Those words stung because it made it sound like their shared past was false. They had been partners, really partners. At least Charles had thought so. Hearing Erik deny that made his anger surge hotter and he snapped out, “At least one of us has principles!” 

“I have principles, Charles! Principles like not sitting back and doing nothing while my people are beaten down and killed by monsters who call themselves human while everyone else just stands by and lets it happen! History repeats itself, Charles, and you’d just watch it happen, holding on to your damn principles.” 

“I am trying to make things better, but we’re not going to do that by fighting. We have to show the world we can be peaceful or we’ll just make the humans more afraid.” 

“I found a peaceful way, Charles! That’s what all this was about and you wouldn’t even listen to my plan.” 

“Your plan will make people see mutation as a disease or as a weapon instead of a gift.” 

“You talk about mutation as a gift so much I would have thought you’d be glad to give it to people.” 

“You’re talking about forcing it on people. That’s not a gift.” They were back to what this was really all about but this wasn’t the reasoned conversation Charles had wanted to have. He wouldn’t be able to convince Erik of anything right now. With both their tempers up, nothing productive was going to be said. Charles needed to try and reign this back in because, of the two of them, Erik had the worst track record when it came to losing his temper. If Charles calmed down, maybe Erik would calm down too and then Charles could do what he’d wanted to do in the first place which was talk to his old friend in a civilised manner. 

Before Erik could yell anything else, Charles angled his chair slightly, turning towards the table. 

“You said something about food,” Charles said. 

Erik looked like he might snap at him again, but he took a breath. He took a step back. The air between them felt less charged with anger already. He looked over at the two trays on the table and apparently accepted this change of subject. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not much of a chef, but it should be edible.” 

Erik moved to the table and pulled out a chair, the tension seeming to slip out of his body with every movement. The opposite side of the table was left empty for Charles to fit the wheelchair and moments later they sat across from each other. 

“How do I know you’ve not drugged it?” Charles asked. 

“Because I didn’t plan for you destroying the drug; I didn’t think I needed to lay on a larger supply. If you want, you can pick which tray you take.” 

Charles considered the trays, which looked identical. The plates held some sort of stew along with mashed potatoes and green beans. There was a glass of water beside each plate. He wished he could just take Erik’s word for it that they weren’t drugged. 

“You can sample both trays,” Charles said. 

Erik picked up his fork and took a mouthful of stew from each plate in turn, chewing and swallowing without hesitation. He followed it down with a mouthful of water from each glass. 

“And the potatoes and beans,” Charles said. Erik didn’t complain and ate some of each. Only then did Charles pull the chair up to the table and take one of the trays. He started eating slowly, just in case he noticed anything strange effects. He was hungry though and, despite Erik’s disparaging comments regarding his cooking abilities, the food was good. 

“Given your concerns about your students,” Erik said between mouthfuls, “I might have thought you’d reconsidered being sent back to the school.” 

“Not until I know you’re not going to do something stupid.” 

Erik let out a little laugh. Charles glared at him, his temper still burning a little too hot despite his efforts to calm down. 

“What?” Charles snapped. 

“The man who arranged a prison break at the Pentagon is concerned I might do something stupid.” 

“Blame Logan for that. I wanted to leave you there.” 

Charles regretted the words as soon as he said them. He saw the way Erik flinched back, just a fraction, the way he looked down at his plate, avoiding Charles’ eyes. In the moment before he looked away, Charles saw the pain in Erik’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Charles said, and actually meant it. “I didn’t... I’m glad we got you out of there.” 

“Except you still think I’m a criminal. You still think I belong in a cell.” 

“If I thought that, I would have locked you up myself after we dealt with Apocalypse. I know you can be a good person, Erik, but... I know how dangerous you can be too. I want...” He wanted Erik to prove he’d been right, all those years ago. He wanted Erik to show his better self. 

“I tried your way, Charles. After Paris, I tried. I stopped fighting. I hid my powers. I found peace, for a time. I saved a man’s life, Charles. There was an accident and I used my powers to protect him. You would have been proud of me. And in response, they murdered my family. Peace doesn’t work when they hate us this much.” 

“I’m sorry. About your family, I’m so sorry.” Charles reached across the table and put his hand on Erik’s. Erik didn’t brush him away, but he didn’t seem to have heard the words. 

“You want the world to be this beautiful, happy place,” Erik said, “but it’s not. It’s full of people who would kill us just for being who we are. If you sit there and tell mutants to be peaceful, it just means we’ll stand there peacefully and get slaughtered by humans who don’t have any of your principles. If we want to make a world where your principles mean a damn, we have to get our hands dirty and fight for it.” 

“I’ve got my hands dirty for you, Erik.” 

“When?” 

“Shaw.” The memory filled Charles with a bitter self-loathing even now. “You might have been the one who killed him, but I held him frozen for you to do it. I got inside his head and made him helpless so you could murder him. I was _inside his head_ , Erik. When you killed him, I felt every moment of it and I let you do it. His blood’s on my hands every bit as much as it is on yours.” 

For years, Charles had tried to tell himself that his actions in that moment had been the right thing to do. It had been Shaw or Erik. One of them would have died that day and Charles had used his powers to make certain it was Shaw, to make certain it was the man who planned to destroy the world. He couldn’t bring himself to regret that choice but in his darkest nightmares, he felt Shaw’s final moments, all that terror and pain, filling him up again, reminding him of what it felt like to leave his principles behind. 

“I...” Erik said. “I didn’t realise you felt it.” 

“I bet you didn’t even think about me holding Shaw still for you. In your mind, that was your kill, your revenge. You never thought about the fact that we did it together. I killed for you that day, Erik. Not again.” 

“Not even if the humans try to kill us?” 

“If we fight and kill, we’re no better than they are.” 

“Of course we are, Charles.” Erik said. Charles waited for another spiel about how mutants were more evolved, were better, were the future of humanity. Instead, Erik said, “They would murder an innocent child for the crime of being a mutant. We fight back against those who would kill us. We go after the guilty, and that’s what makes us different.” 

“And make everyone else more scared. If humans see us as monsters, we have to prove we’re not. We have to demonstrate that we’re peaceful so that they can stop being afraid and finally see us as people.” 

“What I’m talking about this time is a peaceful solution. We can get mutants into positions of power without anyone having to get hurt. We can fight back against our oppressors without you having to kill. And you can be there beside me. You can keep me in line all you want.” That last part was said with the hint of a smile, like Erik was making a joke, but they both knew he was serious. The lack of trust went both ways. Charles could stay by Erik’s side, ready to step in the moment he went too far. 

For all their blazing fury earlier, Charles was tempted, because the man in front of him was still Erik, was still the man who’d made him smile over a chessboard all those years ago. For all the dangers they’d faced, there had been few times as happy as those weeks he and Erik had spent together, tracking down mutants to join their cause, or training together at the mansion. Charles had thought they could change the world together. He’d been so young then, full of naïve hope, for the world and for themselves. He wanted that feeling back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given how briefly Erik's wife was on screen during X-Men Apocalypse, I feel justified in making use of that old literary technique: making stuff up. I think from the cast information that her name was Magda (and that was the name of Erik's wife in the animated series) but I don't remember her ever being addressed by name in the film. I went with that name here anyway. 
> 
> I also love the idea that Erik and Charles would get so distracted by discussing mutant rights mid-chess that they forget where they are in the game.

Chess was a good pastime for them. They could sit with each other, staring at the board, and not have to talk. The game gave them an excuse to be quiet, to avoid another flare of temper. If they started talking, they would quickly hit a disagreement, and soon they would be yelling again. Years of anger would flood out and they would both shout words deliberately intended to hurt. This was better. They could play quietly and pretend that they were still friends. 

The took their turns moving pieces, staring at the layout and each trying to think several moves ahead, trying to guess what the other was planning. Charles took a pawn, leaving his knight exposed in an effort to draw out Erik’s queen. He wasn’t sure it would work and had to resist a smile when, two moves later, Erik’s queen took his knight. Charles brought his rook into play and it didn’t take long for him to pluck the queen from the table. 

Erik watched him do so, staring at the piece as it was set down on the table among the captured. 

“Do you ever wish,” Erik asked, “that you could rewind things, go back to an earlier move and make another choice?” 

“That’s called cheating,” Charles said. He turned his eyes back to the board, trying to work out what Erik might do now and how he should react to it. 

“I wasn’t talking about the game.” 

Charles looked up, meeting Erik’s gaze. 

“Which moves would you change?” Charles asked. 

“I’m not sure exactly. It just feels like every move we’ve made for years has been driving us further apart. I sometimes wish we could go back before Cuba and just... be what we were then.” 

Charles smiled a little, his own thoughts from earlier that day coming back, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

“What happened to us, Charles?” 

Charles didn’t know how to answer that one. It would be easy to pull out examples of Erik’s unacceptable behaviour, throw the blame across the table, but the truth was that they saw the world in different ways. They cared about each other greatly, but there were things they held firm to that would always clash. They would always reach the point where the other wouldn’t bend on an issue. 

He stared at the chessboard, at the sacrificed pieces. They’d lost so much and it had nearly driven Charles into self-destruction, while Erik turned his destruction outward on the rest of the world. They kept being drawn back to each other but whenever things went wrong, they kept clashing and ending up in opposition. 

“There was a guy I knew,” Charles said slowly, “back at Oxford. He used to get migraines, headaches so bad that it felt like my head was being split open just being in the same building as him.” 

Erik frowned, “And this relates to us how?” 

“He looked for patterns to see if he could figure out what caused the migraines and he found some things that triggered them. He worked out that if he had red wine or chocolate, it would give him a migraine.” 

“I still don’t see what this has to do with anything.” 

“He loved both red wine and chocolate. He tried giving them up but he loved them too much and, every few months, he would decide it was worth it to indulge. He would have an evening enjoying the pleasures of taste, and then he’d spend several hours wishing he was dead from the pain of the migraine.” 

“You’re saying that’s us. We keep coming back to each other even though we know how bad it can be.” 

“Except it’s the rest of the world that ends up with the headache.” 

Erik reached across the table towards him but then let his hand drop until it rested on the surface, their hands separated by the collection of captured pieces. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Erik said. “We can do better this time. We can learn to compromise. And I mean both of us.” Charles wasn’t sure if that was accusation or joke. “We can get the good without it turning into a migraine.” 

“We were good together,” Charles admitted. 

“We were magnificent together.” 

Charles laughed, nodding his agreement. 

“Can we try?” Erik asked. “Can we try being friends again?” 

“I’d like that.” 

Charles had never been as angry at anyone as he’d been with Erik, and the reason for that was because of their shared past, because of everything they could have been and weren’t. He’d hated Erik so much because they could have been so much more than enemies. It would be nice to try and regain some of what was lost. There was danger that this could end as badly as everything else had ended in the past. But wasn’t it worth taking the chance? Wasn’t that magnificence worth trying for? 

They shared a smile and then looked down at the board. They both frowned. 

“Whose turn is it?” Erik asked. 

“I honestly can’t remember.” The moment felt so familiar. How many times had they been partway through a game only to get lost in conversation and forget details like turns and strategies? Charles laughed a little and in that moment of shared humour, in the memory of so many games that had come before, it felt real. Whatever it was that lay between them felt real again. 

***

Charles wasn’t sure what urge had possessed him to ask Erik about his wife and daughter, but he was glad he had. As upsetting as this conversation clearly was, he suspected Erik needed to talk about what had happened. He needed a chance to grieve for what he’d lost. He’d buried his sadness beneath a mountain of anger and he needed to let it out without tearing the planet apart at the seams. 

So now Erik sat on the couch and talked while Charles sat in his chair a short distance away and listened. Erik talked about how he’d met his wife, how he’d told her his secret expecting her to hate him like so many others had, and how she’d smiled and told him that she saw him as a good man. 

“She reminded me so much of you sometimes,” Erik said. “She always wanted to see the good in people.” 

Charles smiled sadly, and let Erik talk. He talked about Nina, about bedtime stories and lullabies, about trying to remember his parents’ traditions so he could pass them on to her, to keep something of his past alive in her future. He talked about her smiles and the way she charmed the animals like a princess in a fairy tale. 

“I wish I could have known them,” Charles said. 

“You would have liked them. They would have liked you. Magda had that same ridiculous optimism you have. She could look past the evil in the world to see the potential for good and it made even a cynic like me try to be better. Maybe it’s a good job you never met them. You and Magda were so alike, she might have liked you better than me.” The faint smile on his lips gave away that this was a joke, but there was still a lingering pain behind it, like Erik didn’t know what he’d done to deserve someone like that. 

“If she really was like me,” Charles said, “she could probably see all the good in you and loved you for it.” 

“She never saw my dark side. If she’d seen what I was capable of, she would have turned away from me too.” 

“Or loved you despite it.” 

Erik looked Charles in the eye, surprise erasing every other emotion from his features for that moment. 

“You mean that?” Erik asked. 

Charles had been talking about Magda, but there was no denying the truth behind those words, the feelings of his own that had coloured them. 

“Yes,” Charles said quietly. Despite everything, despite the horrors and the violence and the fights, he loved Erik, as much as he ever had. That was what made it hurt. 

Erik stood. He walked towards Charles, closing the space between them step by careful step, as though each time he placed his foot down it might trigger a landmine. 

“You love me?” Erik asked. 

Charles could have said so many things. He could have said simply yes, or that he loved Erik as a friend or like a brother. There were so many possible answers. Instead, he looked Erik in the eye and said, “There’s never been anyone in my life I’ve loved the way I love you.” 

Erik’s final steps seemed to take forever. Charles put his hands on the wheels of his chair and nudged himself a little closer, leaning into the motion just as Erik closed the gap. Erik leaned down, one hand coming down onto the arm of the wheelchair to take some of his weight, and then he paused. 

Their eyes met, a question hanging silent in the air between them. Did they both want this? 

Charles stretched up, sitting as tall as he could, but he still needed Erik to lean down further. Their lips met, tentative, soft. The kiss seemed to continue the question. Did they want this? Was this right? Were they making a mistake? 

Charles put an arm around Erik’s back, pulling him closer, bringing him deeper into the kiss. 

The thought crossed his mind just for an instant that he could reach up and take Erik’s helmet off. He wouldn’t be at Erik’s mercy anymore. But that would turn this kiss into a ploy to get an advantage, another move in the chess game they kept playing. He didn’t want that. This moment was special, a confession and a beginning. Charles didn’t want to sully it. 

He let his hand drop as Erik pulled back and straightened up. 

They stood for a moment, a little breathless, a little dazed. Then Erik reached up for his helmet. Charles wondered if Erik’s thoughts had gone to a similar place, thinking about tricks and manoeuvres. 

“We can’t have this if we don’t trust,” Erik said. He lifted the helmet free and tossed it aside. He looked at Charles and a wash of second-hand terror filled Charles’ thoughts. Erik was afraid Charles didn’t mean it. He was scared to his core that the words weren’t real, that Charles was only pretending to love him. He was scared he didn’t deserve to be loved like that. 

Charles felt it all like a blow to the chest. 

In answer, he filled his mind with memories. He remembered the way Erik would smile at him across a chess board, talking with him about the mutants to approach for their work with the CIA, the quiet nights when they could just sit together and simply be. He remembered fighting side by side, knowing that Erik would have his back. He remembered the exhilaration when their powers met, when Erik turned the satellite and lifted a submarine, and how proud Charles had felt in those moments. He remembered that flare of desperate hope when Logan had told him that he and Erik had been working together in the future, how he’d wanted to believe it because it meant there really was a chance for them. Charles filled his mind with all these thoughts and let them flow out of him and into Erik. 

Their minds touched and Charles felt the echo of those memories. He felt the moment when he’d held Erik in the water that first time and how he’d promised Erik he wasn’t alone. There was Charles’ smile and the promise of good in Erik and the stirring of a bright memory of joy that had been long buried. There was that brilliant energy, that rush to help people, that inspired Erik to try and do the same, to try and be a better man. There was the way Charles had asked Erik to stay, even after everything, and the way that lit a flame of hope that he wasn’t completely lost to darkness. 

Their memories met and mingled until it was hard to tell which of them was remembering any given moment. Their thoughts and feelings flowed between them until Charles’ eyes were wet with tears and his whole being filled with love that was reflected back and magnified with every heartbeat. 

They didn’t need to say the words. The thought hung between them, undeniable, the product of both their hearts. 

_I love you too._


	4. Chapter 4

It was Erik who first broke away from this exchange of feelings and put thoughts into words. 

“What happens now?” he asked. 

Charles glanced towards the bed and then back at Erik. He wasn’t sure if he was still projecting his thoughts or if Erik just knew him well enough to read them on his face. 

“Is that rushing things?” Erik asked. 

“Given how long it took us to reach this point, I don’t think anything could be considered rushing things,” Charles answered. But he remembered how they’d been screaming at each other only a few hours ago, so maybe Erik had a point. The mood could shift again just as quickly if they started focusing on their spotted history. The fact that they’d admitted these feelings for each other didn’t diminish the anger or any of their disagreements. 

“We don’t have to,” Charles continued. “If you’d rather stick to talking and chess, that’s fine.” 

Erik had never shown an interest in another man before. For all their talk of love, it was possible Erik was uninterested in Charles from that standpoint. Charles wasn’t going to be offended if Erik never wanted to go further than kisses but there was still a small part of him that would be disappointed. He was determined not to push though. He didn’t want to force Erik into this of all things. 

“I want to,” Erik said. “At least, I want to try. I don’t know if…” Erik looked awkward and it made him seem years younger, nervous and unsure of himself. It was endearing. “I haven’t ever been with a man… that way.” 

“I have,” Charles admitted. “Once. It was back at Oxford though and there was a large amount of beer involved so I’m a little hazy on the details.” 

The details he could remember weren’t particularly useful, since he’d had full use of his legs in those days. Getting on his hands and knees would be a completely different proposition now. He did remember how sore he’d been the day after. For all Erik’s vast preparations of this cell, there were certain supplies that Charles doubted he would have laid on. Charles had no intention of having full intercourse without adequate lubrication, especially if this was Erik’s first time and given that Charles hadn’t been with a man in about two decades. The potential for injury was higher than the potential for pleasure. 

“We should start with something small,” Charles said. 

“If that turns out to be a joke at my expense, I might call this whole thing off,” Erik said. 

Charles grinned, “It wasn’t going to be, but now…” 

They shared a smile with more warmth than had been between them for a long time. Charles tried not to think about the future, tried not to imagine all the ways that this might fall apart. Right now, they had each other and they were in love. That would be enough. 

“I think,” Charles continued, “we could start with our hands.” 

“Our hands?” Erik looked confused, but he stood in front of Charles and held out his hands as though expecting Charles to take them. 

Charles bit his lip to keep from laughing. Half the world was scared of Magneto, seeing him as this terrifying force, yet the man standing in front of Charles now was so tentative it was adorable. This was the real Erik, the person he hoped to keep by his side. This was the man he wanted the world to see. 

“I meant,” Charles said, reaching past Erik’s hands, “we should use our hands to give each other pleasure.” 

He placed his hand on Erik’s hip. He could have gone for somewhere more intimate, but he didn’t want to spook Erik, to scare him off with the speed at which this was progressing. Erik was so obviously nervous and the last thing Charles wanted was to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. So he spoke in euphemisms and kept his hand on a safer part of Erik’s body, waiting to see the reaction. 

Charles thought back to his wild times at university, to all those nights in bars when he’d wowed his targets by ordering their favourite drinks and spun his familiar lines about mutation to try and impress them with his cleverness. What had Erik been doing while Charles had been flirting with girls and bringing them back to his bed? At that time in his life, Erik had been more focused on getting revenge than getting laid. Casual sex had probably never been a part of Erik’s life. Probably the only reason he was agreeing to this now was because it was anything but casual. 

Charles stroked his hand across Erik’s hip and rested on the hem of Erik’s top. He let his fingers close around the edge of the fabric. 

“Is this alright?” Charles asked. 

Erik answered the question by seizing the bottom of his shirt and wrenching it up and over his head. He tossed it aside and stood there, the smooth muscle of his torso exposed. Charles let his fingers dance across Erik’s stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin, the movement of each breath. 

Erik edged closer, avoiding Charles’ legs, and bent down for another kiss, his fingers already finding Charles’ buttons and slowly slipping them free of their holes. Each touch was gentle as a breeze, soft sensation drifting over his gradually exposed skin. Charles leaned forward in his chair, deepening the kiss and making space so he could let the shirt drop from his shoulders. 

They paused again. Charles wanted to rush forward, to make up for all those years they’d lost, but he also wanted to make this last as long as possible, drawing out the joy of this strange truce, keeping the potentially heart-breaking future at bay. He also knew he had to let Erik adjust to this change in his world view. So he waited, letting Erik stand there and drink in the sight of Charles’ exposed chest. 

Charles knew his upper body was toned. Years of manoeuvring his body through only the power of his arms had given him good muscles above the waist. He wasn’t sure the picture would be as good once they moved lower, but he hoped the sight of him would be enough to make up to Erik the lack of other bodily characteristics. 

“May I?” Erik asked, stepping forward. Charles nodded and Erik slipped his arms around Charles, one sliding under his arms, the other looping under his knees. Normally, Charles would protest against being carried like a baby, but given what was about to happen, he let Erik clutch him to his chest and carry him those few steps over to the bed. 

Erik set Charles down gently on the edge of the bed and then dropped down onto one knee. For a fraction of a second, Charles could barely breathe, wondering what Erik meant to do, but Erik just reached for Charles’ laces and helped remove his shoes and socks. When he was done, Erik moved back to removing his own clothes while Charles undid his flies and got on with the undignified procedure of taking off his trousers and underwear. It would hardly qualify as a sensual strip tease, having to lift his lower body off the bed and fight to get the fabric off without being able to take any weight on his feet. 

By the time he was done, Erik stood naked in front of him, a nervous smile on his lips and a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. 

_I love you._ Charles sent the thought across wrapped up with his own feelings, his love, his hope, even his nervousness about where this might lead. He felt those feelings reflected back at him. 

This was supposed to be romantic and intimate, a way of linking them together more deeply than ever before, but it all just felt awkward and uncomfortable. Once again, Charles wondered if he should stop this now, if they should take more time to adjust to their accepted feelings. Or would that just give them time to overthink things and get even more nervous about making love to each other? 

Erik sat down beside him on the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight. He looped an arm around Charles’ waist, the other coming up to cup his cheek and draw him back in for another kiss. Despite the anxiety Charles could feel coming from him, it was clear the physically something was working for Erik. 

They moved slowly, sliding back onto the bed, exploring each other with their hands, running fingers over exposed skin. Charles kept their minds linked. They could feel each other’s pleasure in the sensations of a kiss against the neck or fingers over the nipple. Their joy met and mingled and amplified with each moment, all anxiety fading away into this world of sensations and shared love. Bare skin brushed against bare skin. Bared feelings drew them together until all the world was condensed down to just the two of them. All fears and concerns fell away. 

They were linked, body and soul, the two of them sharing this moment and all the feelings that bound them together, bodies and minds naked to each other. 

Then the door exploded inwards in a burst of red light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but I couldn't resist ending it there. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updating. My writing time recently has been spent working on my next book.

Before Charles could react, a blue figure charged into the room, took one look at the situation, and hauled Erik from the bed. The next instant, Hank McCoy, in full beast form, was holding Erik pinned against the wall, his hand around his throat. Erik’s feet dangled a little off the floor as his hands wrapped around Hank’s wrist and tried to get some leverage. 

“Hank, stop!” Charles yelled. 

“Keep your filthy hands off him!” Hank snarled into Erik’s face. 

“Hank!” Charles yelled again. He scrambled at the bed covers, trying to get something over him to shield his nakedness as the rest of the X-Men came into the room. He and Erik had been on top of the covers, so Charles could only manage to grab one edge and pull it over his lower body so at least he wasn’t flashing his genitals at his students and friends. 

“Hank, put him down,” Charles said again. Hank’s hand was still tight around Erik’s throat and it was obvious Erik was struggling to breathe. Given that nothing metal had started flying yet, presumably he was leaving this to Charles to sort out. 

“Hank,” Charles said again, “while I appreciate the efforts to protect my honour, you’ll notice Erik isn’t wearing his helmet. If I had wanted to stop what was just happening, I could have stopped him at any time. Hank, put him down.” 

It was with obvious reluctance that Hank lowered his hand and released Erik’s throat. Charles gave himself a moment to take in the rest of his rescue party. Raven looked like she was trying not to laugh, but none of the others seemed to be taking it so well. Jean looked horrified. Scott stared around the room at anything that wasn’t a naked man. Kurt, Storm and Peter just stood by the door, all looking too shocked to react. 

“How long has this been going on?” Jean demanded. She sounded torn between fury and disgust. 

“If not for the timing of this rescue effort,” Charles said, “this would have been the first time.” 

“I’m glad we got here on time then,” Hank said. 

“You were married,” said Raven to Erik. “To a _woman_.” 

Erik just held a hand towards Charles and said, “It’s Charles.” 

That seemed to be all the answer she needed, but Hank growled again, shoved a hand against Erik’s chest, and pushed him back against the wall. 

“You not surprised about the professor?” Jean asked Raven. 

“I lived with him while he was at university,” Raven answered. “This isn’t the first time he’s been with a man.” 

“I thought you were asleep,” Charles said. He would have been scandalised if he’d realised his adoptive sister had been aware of what he’d done on that night. 

Raven fixed him with a look, “You came in at two in the morning with the cox of the Merton College boat team singing a dirty version of What Shall I Do With the Drunken Sailor at the top of your voices. No one could sleep through that.” 

Charles had no memory of singing but Merton College had been celebrating defeating Worcester College in the regatta and a lot of alcohol had been involved. He did remember doing the drunken sailor in question, and being done in return, but those memories were hazy at best. 

Raven continued, “You spent most of the next day telling me I was thinking too loud.” 

Charles did remember that. It hadn’t helped that his gift had meant he’d picked up on the hangovers of half the college as well as his own. He looked around the room now, seeing Erik’s amused smirk, and the shocked looks on Jean and Scott’s faces. 

_Please shut up,_ he thought at Raven, _while my students still have some respect for me left._

“You should be more concerned about us being angry at you for doing this without telling us,” she glared at Charles, before adding to Jean, “but I’m not surprised he’d be interested in Erik.” 

“We were worried about you!” Scott snapped, finally looking at Charles. “We thought you were in trouble. Instead you and him were...” He trailed off. 

“If it makes you feel better,” said Erik, “we did argue a lot first. Charles smashed stuff.” 

“You can shut up,” Hank growled. 

This was obviously not going to be resolved quickly, so Charles said, “Would someone might handing me my clothes?” There was a blur of motion and then the clothes were on the bed beside Charles. Erik’s arms were now folded across his chest clutching another bundle of cloth. “Thanks, Peter.” 

Charles took his shirt from the pile and pulled it on. 

“Erik brought me here,” Charles said, fastening the buttons. “We talked. We argued. We talked some more and there may have been some acknowledgement of... of feelings.” 

“Feelings?” Scott asked. “This guy handed you over to a monster who wanted to take over your body.” 

“That was one of the things we argued about.” Charles had finished with his shirt now. The rest of his clothes wouldn’t be nearly so straight-forward. “Would you all mind turning your backs while I dress?” 

Over by the wall, Hank snarled at Erik, “I’m going to keep watching you.” 

“I didn’t realise your interests leaned that direction,” Erik said, “but I should warn you, my heart belongs to another.” 

Hank growled again but Charles’ heart skipped a beat. Erik had said it in a joking tone but the emotion flowing from him was sincere. 

The X-Men all turned their backs on the bed and Charles began the process of dressing the lower half of his body. Years of having to do this without use of his legs hadn’t made it easy, though he was a lot quicker at it than he had been at first. It was a process that involved lifting his legs and manoeuvring them into the clothes and then lying back on the bed and trying to lift up his hips to haul the trousers up the final part of the journey over his rear. It was thoroughly undignified and he hated anyone seeing him go through this. Erik was fully dressed by the time Charles was done and so Charles decided to skip the shoes and socks for now. He was moderately presentable and it would do. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “You can look now. Would someone mind passing me the chair?” 

With a wave of a hand, Erik sent the chair rolling towards the bed. Charles took hold of it and shifted his body into it. He felt better able to face his students now, but he still wasn’t entirely sure what to say to them. 

“I’m sorry that you were concerned about me,” Charles said, “but as you can see, I’m perfectly alright.” 

“I did tell you I wouldn’t hurt him,” Erik said. 

“Like we could believe that after everything you’ve done,” said Hank. 

“I’ve never wanted to hurt Charles.” 

“That never stopped you doing it anyway.” 

This was not going to be pleasant. He’d wanted to start again with Erik, to rebuild what had been lost, but he wasn’t the only one Erik had hurt. Erik had tried to kill Raven, he’d fought against Hank, he’d left so many of them feeling betrayed. Charles might be willing to get past that, but it seemed it wouldn’t be so easy for the others. 

“Erik,” Charles said, “perhaps you could show Hank the research your contact has been doing. He might have some insight into whether or not your plan would work.” 

“He’s got a plan?” asked Hank. “How many people are going to die with this one?” 

“Hopefully none,” said Erik. “That’s why I thought I could persuade Charles to help me.” 

Charles had refused, but he remembered Erik’s words about needing to compromise. It was true that having people in power sympathetic to mutants would be a good thing. Maybe he should let himself listen properly this time. There might be some middle ground. With Hank and the others here, perhaps between them they could reach a plan they could all approve of. 

Charles quickly summarised the plan as Erik had described it. 

“Getting mutants into the senate and congress sounds like a good idea to me,” said Raven. Charles tried not to feel annoyed that she’d instantly agreed with Erik. 

“It will never work,” said Hank. 

“You haven’t even looked at the research,” said Erik. 

“I’m not talking about the science. I’m talking about statistics. If you turn every politician into a mutant, everyone will know that it was done by outside influence. Humans will think that mutants are out to attack them.” Hank said this with another glare in Erik’s direction. “Over ninety-five percent of mutants discover their powers between the ages of ten and twenty. A few get their powers earlier, a few develop them in their early to mid twenties, but how many senators and congressmen are there below the age of thirty? If you turn one of the younger ones into a mutant, it could be explained as chance. As soon as you turn two or three, everyone will know something strange is going on and they’ll treat it like an attack. There will be a backlash.” 

“They’ll still be mutants,” Erik said. “It will still be in their interests to protect mutant rights.” 

“While the rest of humans see it as a threat to their humanity and start slaughtering innocent mutants in the street.” 

“Start?” said Erik. 

“It will cause outrage, bloodshed, outright war.” Hank shook his head. “I don’t care if the science proves valid, the plan would be a disaster.” 

Charles was glad to hear his own concerns coming out of Hank’s mouth. It was reassuring that his initial rejection of Erik’s plan had a solid foundation. He still didn’t like the idea and it was good not to be alone in that opinion. Of course, this could end up tearing the group apart like it had on the beach at Cuba, but Charles didn’t plan to let that happen this time. 

“What if we didn’t go after the politicians directly?” Raven asked. “We could make it look more natural if we went after younger siblings, children, nephews and nieces, even children of family friends. Everyone in power must have someone they care about who would be in the right age bracket to develop powers without it seeming suspicious.” 

“You want to try an experimental procedure on children?” Charles asked, horrified. “Even if the procedure works, we’d be changing the very DNA of _children_!” He’d been against it when they’d been talking about changing the fundamental genetic structure of adults who were actively working against them. He would not condone doing anything like this on kids. 

“I’m just putting ideas out there,” said Raven, “and we wouldn’t necessarily be talking about young kids. We could be talking nineteen and twenty year olds.” 

“Even so,” said Erik, “it wouldn’t necessarily work. Not every parent is willing to bend their opinions for the sake of their children. Some parents would disown a child for doing what Charles and I were planning on doing.” He nodded towards the bed. “They won’t have any hesitation over disowning a child for being a mutant, especially if supporting the child would hurt their political ambitions. I still think we need to change the politicians directly.” 

“And of course you don’t care if that kicks off World War Three,” said Hank. 

“Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to do this without killing anyone. That’s why I asked for Charles’ help.” 

“Then maybe you should listen and forget about this whole plan.” 

“And what would you suggest doing instead?” Erik asked. “Injecting myself with chemicals so I can pretend to be human while the humans invent weapons to destroy us? How did that work out for you?” 

Charles wheeled himself towards the pair before Erik said something that provoked Hank into throttling him again. 

“This isn’t helping,” Charles said. “I agree that Erik’s plan, as it stands, would cause a lot of problems, but we all want more people in power sympathetic to mutants. Let’s focus on what we agree on and try to build on that.” 

“You’re serious,” said Hank. “You actually want us to work with a man who solves his problems by murdering people.” 

“I’m not talking about killing anyone this time.” 

“Yeah. This time.” Hank shot Charles a look that was equal parts anger and hurt. “I’m going back to the jet. If you want to work with this murderer, that’s on your head.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a brilliantly detailed analysis on Tumblr about why Charles' wheelchair in Apocalypse was really badly designed and I couldn't resist putting the little allusion to that in here.

Charles wasn’t sure what to do when Hank stormed out. Hank had been radiating his anger, practically screaming it at Charles. Charles wanted to resolve that, to calm things down as soon as possible because he hated the thought of Hank being that mad at him, but he also had to worry about the fact that his students were still here, looking at him as though he would tell them what to do. Then there was Erik, standing a little apart from the others, also looking at Charles. 

The problem with acting self-assured all the time was that everyone expected him to know what he was doing. Right now, he didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Erik to come back with them to the school, to agree to let his plan go and work on less radical ways to bring mutants and humans together. While he was wishing for that, Charles might as well wish that all bigots would have a change of heart and the world would declare an end to war, poverty, and sickness. He should focus on something more realistically achievable. 

“I’m going to talk to Hank,” he said. “Will the rest of you be alright here?” 

He looked in particular at Raven and Erik, trusting them to keep the others in hand. The students looked up to Raven and Erik was trying to get on Charles’ good side. If the two of them were willing to keep order, he would be willing to leave the students. They both nodded, so Charles put his hands to the rims of the wheelchair and started rolling himself out. 

“Do you need a hand?” Erik asked. 

“No, I’ve got this. As long as there are no raised doorframes.” And as long as the jet was parked somewhere accessible. The chair took more physical effort to move than the one he used back at the school, but it was actually easier to steer. The electric one he used had the steering wheels at the back instead of the front, which made manoeuvring a nightmare, but Charles hadn’t had the heart to say anything about it to Hank after he’d gone to the effort to build him the wheelchair as a gift. 

Charles wheeled himself out the door to his cell and was hit by the shift in mental energy. In an instant, Erik and his students were distorted to incomprehensibility, but he could sense Hank a short distance away and he feel the faint traces of other people in all directions, right on the edge of his ability to sense unaided. 

He was in a massive warehouse. Charles’ cell took up most of the space, surrounded by a framework of metal beams and panels that extended out another couple of metres, no doubt to blame for the telepathic block. The contrast between the interior and exterior just made it all the more apparent how much effort Erik had put into Charles’ accommodation. Out here in the warehouse, electricity cables and water pipes stretched across empty space. A mattress in the corner was presumably Erik’s bed. Another corner housed a desk made out of pallet crates with a computer perched precariously on top. Erik had worked so hard to give Charles a pleasant space, but he obviously hadn’t spent more than a moment’s thought on his own physical comforts. 

Charles smiled despite himself as he wheeled towards the doorway. Fortunately, there was nothing to hinder the progress of his chair. The handle was low enough that he could lean forward and reach, before wheeling himself out into a disused parking lot. Faded white lines marked the bays that trucks had occupied in previous times, but now a jet was parked in the middle of the otherwise empty space, ramp still lowered. 

Charles got to the bottom of the ramp and braced himself for the effort to come. He adjusted his grip on the rims and then started pushing. He wished for his electric chair then, despite the steering issues, because getting himself and his chair up the steep slope of the ramp was not a challenge to be taken lightly. It would be so easy, not to mention dangerous, to slip back down again. He was out of practice, so used to taking advantage of the electric chair whenever he could. He huffed and strained and forced himself up the slope, barely making it two metres before Hank was drawn to the noise of exertion. He appeared at the top of the ramp. 

“What are you doing?” Hank asked. 

“I… wanted… to talk… to you…” Charles said between pants of air. 

Some of the anger melted from Hank and he hurried down the ramp, taking hold of the handles. Charles loosened his grip and let Hank take some of the weight. He wheeled while Hank pushed and they reached the top of the ramp in no time. 

Charles applied the brakes and rubbed at his sore hands. 

“You couldn’t get your boyfriend to help you?” Hank asked. He was still in his Beast form. Charles wasn’t sure if that was a sign of his continued anger or just because he hadn’t brought any of the serum with him. 

“I asked him to stay behind. I thought we should talk alone.” 

“Are you worried I’ll say something that will send him on another murder spree?” Hank asked. 

“No. I just thought you might prefer it since you obviously have strong opinions about the current situation.” 

“That’s putting it mildly.” 

“So tell me.” 

Hank snapped at Charles, “I just can’t believe you’d do this. For a smart guy, you make some stupid decisions.” 

“I didn’t decide to get kidnapped,” Charles pointed out. 

“No, but you decided to get into bed with your kidnapper. That man is a killer, you’ve said so yourself. Why do you keep trusting him?” 

“Because there’s good in him. He can make the right choices.” 

“He can also make some spectacularly wrong choices,” Hank said. “He nearly destroyed the world, Charles. He dropped part of a stadium on you. He shot Raven. He handed you over to Apocalypse. He put you in that chair. Erik is way past second chances but you keep giving him more and more.” 

“He’s trying to do the right thing,” Charles said. “I can feel it.” 

“But for how long? How long until you disagree about methods and it all falls apart again?” 

Charles would have loved to say that it wasn’t going to happen this time, but he couldn’t be sure of that. That same fear had been whispering in the back of his mind even while he and Erik had been discovering each other’s bodies in the bed. When the two of them disagreed, arguments could become wars. It would be so easy for this fledgling relationship to end in flames. 

“I don’t know,” Charles said. 

“You don’t know,” said Hank. “You’ll jump into bed with him and I’ll be the one left picking up the pieces when it all falls apart.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I was the one left nursing your broken-hearted ass when he left you the first time. I don’t want to go through all that again because you keep making the same mistakes.” 

“It’s not going to be like that again,” Charles said. “Even if…” He tried to find a way to express his fears about the future. 

“He goes on a murderous rampage?” Hank suggested. 

“Even if things end badly,” Charles said, “I’m not going to fall apart again.” He still regretted the way he’d behaved after Erik had been arrested for supposedly assassinating the President. Charles had been holding himself together by a thread and that had snapped the moment that news report came on the TV. He’d given up on Erik, given up on himself, and given up on the whole damn world. Erik had been right to yell at him for just wallowing in misery while the world needed help, while Erik had needed help. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Erik might not have committed the crime he’d been arrested for, and that just added another layer to his sense of guilt. 

“You can’t rely on him,” Hank said. 

Was that jealousy Charles could feel radiating off Hank? Not of what had been happening in the bed, Charles was certain of that, but of what then? Of the fact that Charles trusted Erik? Charles frowned and resisted the urge to dig deeper. He shouldn’t invade Hank’s privacy like that. Hank would tell him what he was ready to tell him. 

“I haven’t forgotten everything that happened,” Charles said. “I know… I know the risk I’m taking. But I love him.” 

Charles didn’t need to peek at Hank’s mind to know that statement made him angry. His jaw set and he gave an animalistic growl. Charles felt like he ought to be apologising for something but there was no way in hell he would apologise for feeling the way he did about Erik. 

“You love him,” Hank said, “then you hate him and then you’re at each other’s throats again.” 

“I know,” Charles said, “but we’ve talked things through. We’re both going to try to be more flexible, to see things from each other’s point of view. Maybe it will be different this time.” 

Hank expressed his opinion of that with a roll of his eyes and letting his lips fall open to show sharp teeth in a slight snarl. 

“Has he promised to behave like someone with a conscience?” Hank asked. 

“Not in those words. Hank, I love him and he loves me. Maybe this will last. Maybe it will fall apart tomorrow. All I know is that I have to try.” 

Hank let out an exasperated huff of breath. “There was never any point arguing with you. You’re going to do what you want no matter what I think. Just don’t come crying to me when he stabs you in the back again.” 

“Hank,” again Charles felt almost as though he should be apologising. He settled for, “It’ll be OK.” 

“His plan will never work. You know that.” 

“Not as it currently stands, no, but maybe if we discuss it more we can figure out a plan that will work.” 

“Trying to turn humans into mutants?” 

“I don’t like the idea of turning humans into mutants without their permission, but the science on its own might convince people that we’re not so different. With the research you’ve done on your serum, you could work with Erik’s contact and demonstrate how similar we all are.” 

Hank shook his head as he said, “Let’s say we develop a treatment. What happens then? We would need to test it. We’d need to find a human that both you and Erik would agree to being the guinea pig. Even if the treatment appears to work perfectly, without any unexpected consequences,” he waved a hand covered in blue fur as an example of such a consequence, “we’d have to observe over time to make sure that it’s stable, to make sure that changing the DNA doesn’t have major side effects. Then we’d have to test it on a larger group to make sure the first case wasn’t a fluke, and we’d have to observe the health of all the test subjects to make sure that there aren’t other mutations over the long-term. It’s no use creating this treatment if everyone we give it to dies of cancer within a year. There’s a reason why it takes years for new drugs to get approved. Can you imagine Erik being prepared to wait for months or years of rigorous testing to make sure the treatment works as he’d like?” 

Charles was forced to shake his head. “Patience has never been Erik’s strongest suit.” 

The chess games Charles won were the ones where Erik got bored and impatient and started making reckless moves. He tended to want the quick fix. 

“No,” Hank said. “Erik would just try the treatment once and then rush out to transform everyone in politics without waiting to see if there are negative consequences.” 

Charles hated that Hank was probably right. 

“If we can convince him that there’s a better way...” he started. 

Hank made another of those exasperated noises, “The only way you could convince him to change would be to get inside his head and rewire his thoughts and we all know you’re not going to do that.” 

Charles closed his eyes, trying to order his thoughts, trying to see some way to a brighter future. He wanted this so badly that it hurt. He wanted Erik back in his life. He wanted the chance to let this love bloom. The problem was he couldn’t argue with any point Hank had just made. Erik had killed people. Erik was willing to kill for his cause and always would be. He’d always get impatient and want mutant equality right now rather than find a slower way that would involve less bloodshed. Charles could so easily picture this bright future together shattering to pieces but he knew just as firmly that he had to see this through. 

“I love him,” Charles said again. “If this ends in tears, you can say ‘I told you so’ as many times as you like, but I love him.” 

“And love trumps common sense.” 

“I suppose it does.” 

“One day, putting your trust in Erik is going to get you killed.” 

Charles didn’t want to consider that Hank might be right about that too.


End file.
